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HOW MUCH YOU GOT?” 



/ 


Jack Henderson 

ON 

Tipping' 


BY 

BENJ. F. COBB 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
MARSHALL D. SMITH 

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New York 

HURST AND COMPANY 
Publishers 


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UBIVARV ot ^ONGtiESS 
Vwo Ooptes rieutiveu 

: iUN 6 iy05 

Oopynsiit tiiiry 
UUiSS /f AXc, Nui 




Copyrig-hted, 1905 
BY BENJ. F. COBB 
All Rights Reserved 


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Henderson. 




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Tipping as She is Tipped. 


Detroit, 19 — . 

Dear Billy: — 

Not having traveled overly much it 
is not' to be supposed that you are 
higher than a three-spot when you 
switch on to this subject, but “tip- 
ping as she is tipped^’ is one of the up- 
to-date accomplishments, Billy. 

I propose in this letter to throw my 
little piece of radium on to it and show 
it up to your tender eyes, for it cer- 
tainly dazzles me. I heard a street 
preaching guy telling about the ad- 
vancement of all things and he named 
over everything he could think of but 
left out the drum major of the bunch, 
the cap sheaf, as it were, the one great 
and only that heads the procession. 
There is an art in tipping but the art 
is soon learned; one of the lost arts, 
however, is to get along without tip- 


6 


Jack Henderson. 


ping. The more I see of tipping the 
more I am convinced it is the correct 
thing, and the guy who started the 
anti-tipping club needs to roost high 
or he will get his tail feathers clipped. 
Just the same, I believe in the anth 
tipping club. I wish that seventy-five 
per cent or more of the travelers 
would join it, then I would keep on 
tipping and be a true enough top- 
notcher. 

There is only one tipping rule for 
the man who travels, and that is to 
tip and keep tipping, particularly if 
you desire to get what is coming to 
you. Some methodical dubs have 
adopted the rule of giving to the wait- 
ers ten per cent of the amount paid 
for a meal. My plan is to give some- 
thing if nothing but a cussing, but to 
give according to what I receive — 
and a good cussing is all that is com- 
ing to some of them, according to my 
rule. 

I found a waiter in Shanley’s once 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 7 

who had been spoiled by the ten per 
cent habit. I dropped in there with a 
piece of calico and the bill came to 
six dollars and fifty cents. I gave 
his nibs seven dollars and when he 
brought back the half^ I said : 

‘‘Keep it, old man.’' 

He lifted it on the plate and cock- 
ing one eye, said: 

“The bill was six fifty,” meaning 
that I ought to come down with fif- 
teen cents more. 

“That’s right,” said I, “sixty fifty 
is enough for any dub to pay for a 
dinner,” and I pocketed the half and 
walked out. 

I think he fainted, — at all events, 
I heard something fall as I walked 
away. The girl asked what the trou- 
ble was and I said : 

“Nothing, only the waiter was too 
honest to take a tip,” and then she 
fainted. 

The size of the tip that a fellow is 
supposed to be separated from de- 


8 


Jack Henderson. 


pends a gcwDd deal on the place; as a 
rule, the higher priced place you 
strike either in a hotel or restaurant 
(perhaps I should say a cafe), the 
smaller the portions and the larger the 
tips. You see in a real tony place 
where there is lots of gilt, pictures and 
Oriental rugs, the less they can afford 
to give you to eat and the more you 
have to pay for it ; and the size of the 
tips you give should increase in pro- 
portion to the shrinkage of the por- 
tions you receive. 

I started to go into a place in New 
York where the flunkeys were diked 
out with knee pants, silver shoe 
buckles and powdered wigs, and the 
silverware was sixteen-to-one on the 
tables, but when I saw the smiles on 
the faces of those flunkeys I backed 
up and got out. You see I was hun- 
gry and only had three thousand dol- 
lars in my pocket, and the Lord only 
knows what those powdered flvinkeys 
would have held me up for; besides, 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 9 

the dinner check would have been 
something. 

The first time I went to Atlantic 
City I wanted to get wise on the tip- 
ping game, so I asked a modest look- 
ing waiter what I was expected to 
give up for tips in a place like that. 
I did not have to wait long for an an- 
swer. It was on the heels of what I 
said so quickly I thought I must have 
said it myself, ''Howmuchyougot ?” 
It was a stiff game, but I stood it a 
week and then went straight through 
to Chicago. That was the time I 
came home on crutches, Billy, don’t 
you remember ? 

There is one thing I could never 
bring out straight and that is, how 
the average traveler will give a greasy 
nigger from a quarter to a half for 
giving him slight attention at the ta- 
ble, when they will let a nice, neat 
white girl wait on them in first-class 
shape and then walk off without so 
much as a ''thank you.” That ain’t 


10 


Jack Henderson. 


me, Billy, the girls get my money. For 
that matter I suppose you will say 
they always did. All right, old man, 
I have no kick coming. 

Did I tell you I came near getting 
married while I was down in Wash- 
ington, D. C. ? You see it was this 
way, Billy : Burt Olmstead was there 
with his wife, and we were all stop- 
ping at the Baldy, and Mrs. Olmstead 
told me she had been watching the 
girl who takes care of the hats and 
coats at the entrance of the dining- 
room, and as near as she could figure 
it out the girl was pulling in in tips 
ten or fifteen dollars a day. That 
looked awful good to me, and the next 
time I went in to dinner I stopped to 
have a talk with her. I had waited 
until the rush was over so as to have 
plenty of time, and say, Billy, she 
wasn’t such a bad looker I found when 
I got my orbs on her at close range. 
The conversation was something like 
this, commencing with myself : 


11 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 

''Are you married?’’ 

"No, sir.” 

"Would you like to be?” 

"Oh, I don’t know. That would 
depend some on the con man.” 

"What do you mean by the 'con 
man ?’ ” 

"Ain’t you wise to that? Why, no 
guy gets a girl unless he cons her into 
it. I didn’t think you were scant in 
the top-knot, you don’t look the part.” 

"Never mind the 'scant’ part. Just 
throw your lamps on me and tell me 
how you think I would stack up for 
the place.” 

"You are all right for looks, but 
how about the mazuma?” 

"We’ll have the mazuma all right 
if you will train in my company.” 

"That’s all right, Duke, but what 
about my steady?” 

"Why don’t the duffer marry you?” 

"He ain’t ready yet, I reckon.” 

"Well, that’s where your steady and 
me differ. I am ready right now. 


12 


Jack Henderson. 


You can put your shoes under my 
bed and commence P. D. Q. on one 
condition.’^ 

*What is the condition?’’ 

‘That you will hold on to your job 
right here until I can get hold of as 
good a graft.” 

Say, Billy, she grew two inches tall- 
er in half a minute, and then she 
struck an attitude and throwing her 
right hand out with the palm down, 
she said: 

“Walk on, man; I have had offers 
from four Italian counts and two Eng- 
lish lords within a week, but as they 
all suggested the same conditions, I am 
still single. But say, you are a good 
looker and if you should happen to 
want a job as chauffeur I might use 
you with my new touring car.” 

Wouldn’t that give a fellow a smell 
of gasoline, though? 

I made a foolish bet once while in 
Denver, with Dug Green. I bet him 
twenty plunks that I could live at 


13 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 

the Blue Palace a week without tip- 
ping anyone about the hotel. The 
only place that troubled me was the 
dining-room. I was sure I could get 
away with the bell boys and porters, 
although I knew I would get myself 
very much disliked. You know how 
bad I hate to get beat, Billy, so yt)u 
must know how hard I tried to save 
that twenty, but it was no use — I soon 
found I was fighting against big odds 
and that the other side had some great 
generals. We made the bet on Mon- 
day morning before breakfast, and I 
was to commence at once. As I went 
into the cafe that morning I picked 
out a waiter whom I had tipped quite 
liberally the week before, and said to 
him : 

''Sam, bring me a nice little break- 
fast. You know what I like.’’ 

Sam brought me a nice sirloin steak, 
shirred eggs, rolls and a cup of coffee, 
and on the steak was a couple of slices 
of crisp bacon. When through with 


14 


Jack Henderson. 


my breakfast I walked out without 
giving Sam a tip. He showed his 
surprise and disappointment very 
plainly. According to my arrange- 
ment with Dug I was not to make any 
promises of future payment, and was 
to eat in the same dining-room during 
the week. 

At lunch time Sam waited on me 
again and looked more puzzled than 
ever when I walked out without tip- 
ping him. At dinner I sat at another 
table and had another w^aiter, who 
of course knew that I had not tipped 
Sam, as every customer in a hotel is 
spotted and his measure taken by each 
flunkey for the benefit of the others. 
This waiter seemed to think that for 
some reason I had taken exceptions 
to Sam, therefore, he laid himself out 
to do his best to win my favor, think- 
ing to draw an extra tip from me. 
It was of no use, however, as when 
through I walked out, leaving nothing 
to smooth the rough places off his 
hard and lumpy thoughts. 


15 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 

My plan then was to change tables 
each meal, as I thought in that way I 
could get through the week and save 
my bet, but you know the old saying, 
'‘White man proposes and a nigger 
trips him up’’ — at least Dug told me it 
was an old saying. Imagine my sur- 
prise the next morning as I sat down 
to a table far removed from Sam’s side 
of the dining-room to find that he was 
to wait on me. 

“Bring me a nice little breakfast, 
Sam,” said I, and it was brought — 
that is, it was little but not nice. The 
steak was tough, the bacon was raw 
and the potatoes were cold. I stood 
it until Thursday morning, and then 
dodged into the dining-room when I 
saw Sam had all he could attend to. 
As I came in the door the head waiter 
sent some one to take Sam’s place, and 
Sam came to me with a smile on his 
face that boded no good for yours 
truly. 

“Sam,” said I, “you d — rascal. 


16 Jack Henderson. 

you bring me a nice breakfast; you 
know what I like and you see that it 
is all right. If I have a»y more of 
your nonsense I will talk to the head 
waiter about you, and if that doesn’t 
do any good I will tie you up in a knot. 
I mean what I say, do you hear me ?” 

''I sho does,” said Sam^ and he left 
me without another word. 

I made up my mind that I was on 
the right track to win the twenty. Dug 
came in when I did, but as we had 
agreed not to sit together, he had 
taken a seat at another table. I was 
interested in flirting with a girl at an- 
other table, and when I looked around 
Dug was through with his breakfast 
and was evidently waiting to see how 
I was coming out. After a time a 
strange coon came in with my break- 
fast, and a worse outfit I never have 
struck up against. The steak was stone 
cold and so was the coffee. 

‘"Boy,” said I, “where in h — has 
this meat been since it cam off the 
fire? 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 17 

‘‘Sam done took it outen de ice 
chest, sar.’’ 

“Out of the ice chest questioned I. 

“Yes, sar, he done tole me you war 
a hot-headed sort o' pussen, sar, and 
dat you had to hab yo' breakfast cooled 
off, sar." 

I looked at the nigger. He was 
about six feet tall and a good, husky 
fellow withal, and I then noticed that 
the coat he had on was several sizes 
too small for him. I caught on to the 
scheme. Sam had changed places 
with a pot wrestler and sent him in 
to save himself trouble. I looked over 
towards Dug, and he had on a broad 
grin. Then I caught a glimpse of the 
head waiter. He had a queer look on 
his face that I did not understand. 
The whole thing was too much for me. 
I gathered up the dishes that held the 
steak, coffee, eggs, etc., and the next 
thing that happened they landed square 
on tha^^ nigger's head and shoulders. 
The weight of the truck took the big 


Jack Henderson. 


18 ^ 

brute to the floor, and there was a 
mixture of eggs, steak and nigger that 
must have taken some time to scrape 
apart. The nigger picked himself up 
and fairly flew to the kitchen, and 
there was a commotion in the dining- 
room better imagined than described. 
I was on my feet mad enough to fight 
a Spanish bull. While I stood there 
glowering at Dug and the rest of the 
push, I spied Sam keeping just out of 
my reach. I knew I was beaten, and, 
digging a dollar out of my pocket, I 
motioned him to me and said, as I 
handed him the dollar : 

‘‘Here, you black rascal, bring me 
my breakfast.’^ 

In three minutes more Sam was 
back with a breakfast to my liking. I 
afterwards found that my breakfast 
had been cooked for me each morning 
but I had to give in to get it. 

There is a moral in this : Tip and 
keep tipping ; that is the only way you 
can get what is coming to you. I not 


Tipping as She is Tipped. 19 

only lost the bet, but I queered myself 
with the girl I had been flirting with 
for a week. Yours, 

Jack. 


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To Tip or Not to Tip 







Jack 

Henderson. 


To Tip or Not to Tip. 


On Board Train, 19 — . 
Dear Billy : — 

Writing on train is not the best of 
a task, but when I feel like writing 
I must write or you would get no let- 
ters. I have just been in to dinner in' 
the dining-car, and there I met a tan- 
colored coon who used to wait on us 
up to the Poker Club on Clark Street. 
That coon ought to be rich with the 
tips he has pinched out of us; most 
likely he would be if he had not played 
so much policy. 

You ought to have seen him swell 
up when he saw me; he acted as 
though he was carrying the secret of 
my birth^ or something else equally 
as interesting. He started to shake 
hands with me, but when he saw that 
three-karat uneasy payment diamond 
I am wearing in my shirt front, he 


/ 


24 


Jack Henderson. 


backed up and got away. He came 
back as soon as he could get his breath 
and I had the best there was in the 
car and a very large portion of it. Of 
course, he expected a half for what he 
stole from the company, and of course 
he got it, but it made me feel as though 
I had laid myself liable to arrest as an 
accessory before the fact in a larceny 
case. 

Running across this nigger and no- 
ticing how easy he pried a half out of 
me, made me hark back to other things 
that have happened and then I got 
doubtful as to my former decision as 
to tipping being the right thing to do. 
After all it is not so much a question 
of right and wrong as it is a case of 
can a fellow afford not to do it? 

I remember going into a Broadway 
hotel in New York once and deciding 
beforehand that I would do no tipping. 
The first time I went into the dining- 
room the head coon bowed me in very 
graciously, as he had never seen me 


25 


Ta Tip or Not to Tip. 

before, and I most likely looked easy; 
he gave me in charge of a dull-look- 
ing waiter and let it go at that. The 
waiter was bum, to put it mildly, and 
as I made up my mind that I did not 
owe him anything, he did not get any- 
thing. 

The next time I went into that din- 
ing-room I was given a different table 
and a different waiter. This waiter 
was a little better than the other one 
and seemed to try hard to do every- 
thing to please me, but I had steeled 
my heart against all waiters and I was 
not in a mind to show the white feath- 
er or the soft heart, whichever it might 
be called. 

The next time I came into the din- 
ing-room I received very slight no- 
tice from the ‘‘King of the Cannibal 
Islands,” as I had designated the big 
moke at the door, and I was turned 
over to the tender mercy of a six-foot 
coon who had a hand like a ham and 
teeth that reminded me of a mile of 


26 


Jack Henderson. 


painted fence palings. This black 
slugger did not waste any time on me. 
He demanded my order as though he 
meant my watch and diamond pin, and 
when he came back with the stujff, he 
threw it at me as though he was pitch- 
ing quoits at an iron pin. He only 
gave me a half portion of butter, and 
then kept out of my way so I could 
not get any more. 

I called to another waiter, but the 
only satisfaction I got was: 

'T am not waiting on you.’' 

When I asked him to call my waiter, 
I was passed by as though he had not 
heard me. I called the assistant head 
waiter, only to be told that the waiters 
were very busy, and were doing the 
best they could. 

When I realized I was up against it 
good and plenty I rested on my oars, 
awhile, wondering how I would play 
even. While I was thinking it over 
and wondering if I would be obliged 
to acknowledge myself beaten, my 


27 


To Tip or Not to Tip. 

waiter, thinking I was through, came 
to me and asked if I was done. At 
the same time another waiter came on 
the scene holding a huge tray high 
over his head. The tray was filled 
to the guards with everything from 
soup to pie. An idea struck me, but 
I had to be quick. 

I dropped my fork, my waiter 
stopped to pick it up, and, as he was 
stooping, I kicked my chair from under 
me and, throwing myself on all fours 
in front of the fast approaching waiter 
with the tray, causing him to trip and 
bring the tray and its contents fair on 
top of my waiter’s back and head. 

I escaped without a spatter, the in- 
coming waiter got but little, but the 
poor devil of a nig that was supposed 
to wait on me got a good bit more than 
I expected, for he was not only 
drenched with the soup, gravy, chicken 
potpie, custard pie, and a few other 
edibles, but a broken piece of crockery 
or glass took him in the back of the 


28 


Jack Henderson. 


head and cut a good-sized gash. Either 
this or his striking the floor with his 
head put him out of business, for he 
never moved a muscle. The head 
waiter and the assistant head waiter 
came rushing up, and there was a gen- 
eral stampede of guests to see what 
was the matter. I was the first to de- 
mand to know how it all happened. 

The proprietor came in and gave 
orders for the removal of the debris, 
and, incidentally, of the waiter also. 
He was picked up and carried out, and 
so were the dishes. 

After the nigger had been carried 
out, there was a good deal of talk 
about how it happened. They found 
the nig who had the tray and de- 
manded of him what part he had in it. 
He was just about to open his mouth 
when I stepped in front of him, 
clenched my fist and looked him square 
in the eye. 

^To’ de Lawd, T don’ know how it 
all did come about. I jes’ tripped on 
sumthin’ and dar I was.” 


29 


To Tip or Not to Tip. 

With this explanation Mr. Nig 
slid out of the way. The next time I 
came in the dining-room I was fitted 
out with an umbrella handle. It was 
one of the largest ones I ever saw and 
shaped not unlike a revolver handle. 
This I had in my hip pocket. I threw 
my coat tails to one side and exposed 
for a moment the top of the handle to 
the gaze of the head waiter. After I 
was sure he had seen it I walked up to 
him and said: 

‘'Look here, Sam, you saw my gun, 
but you only saw one of the pair. 
They are forty-fours and will carry a 
bullet through a six-inch plank. Now, 
I don’t propose to be held up by you 
damned rascals any more. What I 
want of you is to put me to the same 
table each time, give me as good a 
waiter as you have in the house, and 
see that I am waited on in first-class 
shape. If you do this, all right ; if not, 
there will be a pile of dead niggers here 
that will bring on international com- 
plications.” 


30 


Jack Henderson. 


‘1 don’ know what yo’ mean, sar.” 

My hand went to my hip pocket, but 
before I had time to draw, the moke 
threw up his hands and cried out : 

‘To’ de Lawd, mister man, you can 
hab any waiter yo’ want.” 

The head waiter seated me himself, 
and I was never waited on better in 
my life, and it was kept up as long as 
I stayed in the house. I expected to 
be interviewed about those concealed 
weapons, but was not, and the um- 
brella handle did service equally as 
well as a cannon. 

The negro is strong on long words, 
and about three days after my calling 
down the head waiter, he stopped me 
as I was leaving the dining-room and 
said; 

“Mister Henderson, what’s dis yer 
international complexions you told me 
about dat day ?” 

“Is it possible you don’t know, Sam? 
Don’t you attend church every Sun«- 
day?” 


31 


To Tip or Not to Tip, 

‘T suah does, sar, but we hain’t got 
none of dose things about our church/’ 

''Oh, yes you have, only you don’t 
see all there is going on about the 
church. International complications, 
Sam, act the same on the heart as ver- 
miform appendix does on the liver, 
and it is a serious thing when they both 
begin working at once.” 

"Yes, sar,” said Sam, as he bowed 
me out, and there was a puzzled look 
on his face that proved to me that I 
had raised about twenty feet in his esti- 
mation. I was only there two days 
more, but I think he stood more in 
awe of me on account of the big words 
I tossed him as I passed him each day 
than of the two big guns he thought I 
had. 

I was stopping in Detroit at one time 
and had been introduced by some 
would-be society sports to the smart set, 
and Detroit has a smart set, even if 
the people generally are bigotted. I 
suppose these society boys thought 


32 


Jack Henderson. 


they would have some fun with me 
when they got me up against some of 
those society bathing costumes, but I 
did not balk at them. I had seen 
them before on people who did not lay 
claim to so much respectability. 

Perhaps I should say why I claim 
that the people of Detroit are bigotted. 
I want to tell you, Billy, you can gam- 
ble that the people of any town are 
bigotted when they will not accept 
Standard time, but have Sun time for 
their business and claim that the rail- 
road people are a half an hour out of 
the way. The so-called Christian 
people should rise above anything of 
this kind, for these two-time towns 
are the cause of more profanity than 
any other one thing that I know of. 
All the prayers of all the good people 
in Christendom will not keep the 
traveling men out of h — if they don’t 
get this fool idea out of their heads of 
having a time of their own in these 
jay towns, and it can only be a jay 


33 


To Tip or Not to Tip. 

town that will keep that much behind 
the trains. 

Standard time was inaugurated for 
the benefit of all the people in the 
United States, and these guys who are 
not willing to go with the push have 
no particular excuse for living. 

I started to tell you about my ad- 
venture with the smart set in Detroit, 
or rather my adventure at one of their 
functions. That word functions, Bil- 
ly, is answerable for a lot of bum do- 
ings that I know about, and that only 
covers a small territory. I had on my 
turkey tail suit, just like a waiter, and 
felt as though the waist bands of my 
trousers were coming up through that 
big hole in the front of my vest. I 
had on a little dinkey tie, made out of 
some white stuff that I did not dare 
to put my hands on for fear I would 
make a mark on it, and I had one of 
those choker standing collars like a 
priest, that keeps a fellow guessing 
whether he is coming back or going* 


34 Jack Henderson. 

ahead. On the whole I was not feel- 
ing any too good with that suit and 
perhaps was not altogether answerable 
for what I said and did. 

When a lady looked at me more 
than a second I thought something was 
the matter with my clothes, and I 
could feel my face getting as red as a 
pickled beet. 

I was standing around looking as 
though I would sell myself for a song 
or less, when one of those waistless 
dresses started toward me. It had a 
woman in it and I got scared. I 
thought she was about to tell me my 
collar was unbuttoned or that my 
shirt front had wilted. 

''Mr. Henderson,’’ said she, "will 
you please send for an ice for me?” 

"Sure,” said I, quite relieved that it 
was no worse. I turned about and 
seeing a fellow that I thought waited 
on me that morning at the hotel, I 
said : 

''Here, Jim, run along and get this 
lady an ice.” 


35 


To Tip or Not to Tip. 

Jim did not move, and thinking he 
was waiting for a tip in advance, I 
handed him a quarter, saying: 

“Get a move on you now, don’t 
waste any more time.” 

“I am a guest,” said he, but he 
spoke so low the lady did not hear, 
but she heard me tell him to get the 
ice, and I could see but one way out. 

“You get that ice,” said I, “or I will 

break your d d head. I did not 

know you were a guest and you have 
no business to look so much like a 
waiter,” and I not only made him get 
the ice, but I made him take the quar- 
ter. 

I think they would do better up 
there if they used Standard time. 

' Yours, % Jack. 






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Merry Christmas. 


Jack 

Henderson. 





Merry Christmas. 


r 


Pittsburgh, Pa., 19 — , 

Merry Christmas, Billy: — 

This is the time and this is the 
town. It is Christmas and there is 
no town that needs it more than this 
one does. In Chicago when a fellow 
puts on a polished shirt front he usual- 
ly comes in with a polka dot at least, 
but here it changes from a laundry 
polish to a shoe polish. 

Here we are, right in the midst of 
the festal season. Dug and I have 
been trying a new kind of liquor every 
day for a week to get the exact right 
thing for the holidays. Queer about 
Christmas, Billy, there seems to be 
something in the air that makes a 
duffer want to give something to 
every guy who is worse off than he is. 

I saw a hard looking old dub on 
the street on Christmas morning; he 


40 


Jack Henderson. 


did not seem to know which way to 
turn; his clothes were whole, but had 
been worn shiney. He had no over- 
coat and his old plug hat looked as 
though it had done duty for many a 
year. I touched him on the shoulder 
and said to him: 

‘^Come with me, old man, and take 
a drink.’" The old man looked sur- 
prised. 

'T don’t drink, sir,” said he, ‘‘and 
it would be better for you if you did 
pot, either.” 

! ^‘All right, old man,” said I, “I ad- 
mire your principles, but I deplore 
the loss of so much fun on your ac- 
count, and by the way,” said I, notic- 
ing how drawn and pinched the old 
man’s face looked, “if you wouldn’t 
waste so much money on grub and put 
a little of it into good whiskey for 
yourself, it would help out your looks 
a heap.” 

I imagined the old man looked hurt 
at something I had said and not wish- 


Merry Christmas. 


41 


ing to hurt anyone’s feelings on Christ- 
mas morning, I handed him a dollar 
and left him. He seemed to take the 
dollar reluctantly and I felt then that 
I must have touched the old man’s 
pride. 

As we walked down the street I no- 
ticed we were followed by a couple of 
nicely dressed gentlemen, and I also 
noticed that they were wonderfully 
pleased about something ; in fact, they 
seemed to be immoderately pleased 
for they were laughing good and 
plenty. As they came close to us I 
turned and said to them: 

''If that is a jag you have you ought 
to have divided it with some one else; 
it will hurt you to carry that load all 
day.’’ 

"No,” said one of them as he 
leaned against a tree and talked be- 
tween laughs, "we are not jagged, but 
we are willing and it is up to you to 
do the proper.” 

"Up to me,” said I, "what’s chew- 
ing you?” 


42 Jack Henderson. 

‘‘Oh ! not a thing, only I was won- 
dering how you would feel when you 
found out that the fellow you gave the 
dollar to was old Josiah Grubb, who is 
known to be worth two million and is 
too mean to feed his face regularly.’' 

Billy, I have had a good many raw 
turns, but this capped them all. I 
thought at first I would go back and 
make him cough that dollar up again^ 
but I only went back to prove that 
our two new found friends were right. 
Then I bought wine. This Christmas 
giving is a great stunt, Billy, and 
there is certainly one dollar that I have 
put into safe keeping. 

Speaking of Christmas giving re- 
minds me that the average Christmas 
present is a gift of something that we 
would like to own to someone who has 
a very bad opinion of our individual 
taste. 

Dug has a cousin who is attending 
a theological school in Boston and a 
couple of days before Christmas, Dug 


Merry Christmas. 43 

had wired me to send this cousin a 
suitable present. This was a little 
out of my line, but I did the best I 
could and then promptly forgot about 
it. On Christmas day Dug received a 
numbers of presents, and among them 
a bundle from Clarence Hulburt, the 
theological student. Dug showed it 
to me; it consisted of two books, one 
was Bunyan's 'Tilgrim’s Progress,” 
and the title of the other was ‘'How 
to Be Good Though Rich.” Dug was 
laughing. 

“What an ass,” said I, “sending 
such things as that to anyone.” 

This waked Dug up to the fact of 
my buying something for this same 
fellow and he asked me what I sent 
him. 

“Sent him?” said I. “I sent him 
the neatest little poker outfit you ever 
laid your eyes on, four decks of cards 
and over three hundred chips. The 
cleanest looking white ones and red 
ones that would make you bluff on a 


44 


Jack Henderson. 


pair of fours, and blues that were a 
dream. I never* had so many chips on 
my side of the table at one time, and 
for a fact. Dug, I hated to see them 

Dug turned as pale as a ghost and 
groaned. 

‘What is the matter?'^ said I, jump- 
ing tov/ards him. 

“Matter,'" said he, “you d d 

idiot, do you really mean to tell me 
you sent an outfit like that to a man 
who is studying for the ministry?" 

“Why not," said I; and up to now 
I can't see what there was to groan 
over. There was sure more fun in 
that poker outfit than in the books he 
sent to Dug, if I am any judge. 

Christmas is all right, though, even 
if the presents don't fit the right spot. 
I never knew of but one family that 
could hit it right every time. That 
family consisted of a man and his 
wife. The man usually bought his 
wife a box of cigars or a pipe, and she 


Merry Christmas. 


45 


would buy him a pair of earrings, a 
breastpin or a box of candy. If he 
did not like the earrings she would 
wear them, and the cigars never came 
amiss. Taking it all in all, it is a day 
that makes a fellow feel generous, 
whether the money he is spending be- 
longs to him or to some one else. 

Christmas Eve I went into the hotel 
barber shop to get shaved. As I sat 
down in a chair I noticed that I had 
drawn a long, cadaverous-looking cuss 
for a barber who seemed to take full 
possession of anything that came 
within his reach. He had caught on 
to my name, somehow, and as I sat 
down he said : 

‘‘Your hair needs trimming, Mr. 
Henderson. It is a little ragged 
around the edges.’’ 

I knew well enough that my hair 
did not need cutting, and was about to 
say so when he butted in with : 

“It’s Christmas to-morrow, you 
know, Mr. Henderson,” and while he 


46 


Jack Henderson. 


was saying it he was pulling out the 
headrest. It was Christmas Eve, and I 
did not want to make him feel bad, so 
I let him go ahead. One thing I liked 
about him, he did not seem to be one 
of the talking kind ; that is to say, he 
did not say much, but what he did 
say you felt that he meant. After he 
was through cutting my hair, he laid 
my head back, and, with those long 
swipes of his^ laid the lather on all 
parts of me that showed above my 
collar. Then he commenced on me 
with his razor. He was long at this. 
He w^ould lay his razor on above my 
cheek-bone, and with one swipe would 
rake down over my cheek and land 
under the tip of my chin. I fairly 
held my breath. After he had given 
me a couple of swipes of that kind he 
stopped to wipe his razor. 

‘‘Look here,’' said I ; “what did you 
work at before you struck the barber 
trade ?” 

“Stock Yards,” said he, taking a 


Merry Christmas. 


47 


swipe down the other side of my face 
with that infernal razor ; ‘‘used to be a 
ripper/’ he added. And before my 
mind’s eye came a long row of hogs 
strung up by the hind legs and my 
friend of the razor going down the 
line giving each one a slash down the 
middle. Again I held my breath, and, 
after a few more of those swiping cuts, 
I was washed off and jerked into an 
upright position. 

“Singe?” I heard him say, and, be- 
fore I could utter a protest a blaze 
of fire was dancing about my head. 
This was another case of hold your 
breath. Then I was thrown on my 
back again, and lengthy was massag- 
ing my face. He was handling it as 
though it was a piece of putty, and I 
wondered if I would know myself if 
I ever got a chance to look in the glass 
again. Then I was bounced into an 
upright position again, and I heard 
him say something about the danger 
of taking cold. The next I knew those 


48 


Jack Henderson. 


long fingers were going through what 
was left of my hair, executing what 
he called an alcohol shampoo. There 
was nothing further he could do for 
me, but, as he presented me with my 
check, he slipped a bottle of hair tonic 
into my pocket. . 

‘‘Greatest tonic on earth,’’ said he. 
“There are indications that your hair 
will begin to fall out in a few years, 
and you should be prepared.” 

The check was two dollars and forty 
cents. I handed him three one dollar 
bills. 

“Thanks !” said he, looking at the 
bills. “Sixty cents is the smallest tip 
I have had to-day, but it is all right, 
old man. Come in again.” 

I clinched the bottle of hair tonic 
in one hand and a strong desire came 
to me to kill that barber on the spot. 
I took a step towards him. He had 
put the money away, had gotten hold 
of his razor with his right hand, and 
was stropping it on the palm of his 


Merry Christmas. 


49 


left. A vision of those slashed hogs 
came before me, and I walked out, but 
if I ever meet that mart separated from 
his razor, there is going to be trouble. 

I am keeping a little book now and 
putting in it the things to be avoided. 
One of the first things down is to 
avoid a hotel barber shop on Qirist- 
mas Eve. You can never forget that 
it is Christmas time. They commence 
telling you about it a week before 
Christmas, and don’t let up until a 
week after New Year’s. 

When you first come into a hotel 
the boy shows you to your room, and 
after setting down your grip in the 
only place in the room where you 
would rather not have it, he fixes the 
windows. They most likely don’t 
need fixing, but he fixes them anyway. 
If they are shut, he opens them, and 
if they are open he shuts them. Then, 
if you don’t notice him, he stands on 
one foot awhile, then changes off and 


50 


Jack Henderson. 


stands on the other. Then he coughs, 
and, if that doesn’t fetch you, he says : 

'‘Anything more I can do for you ?” 

You say "No,” and he puts you 
down for a cheap guy and then goes 
down and tells the news to the rest of 
the bell hops. 

The one who showed me up at this 
place wasn’t to be put off so easy. After 
he had worked all the old grafts he 
said : 

"It’s going to be fine weather for 
Christmas.” 

"All right,” said 1. "If you will 
pull off a good sunshiny day, you can 
come to my room and get a half a dol- 
lar,” and then the little beggar asked 
me if I was going to be here Christ- 
mas. I got rid of this boy for the 
time being on a promise, but I knew 
that half would have to be paid if 
Christmas brought in a cyclone. 

The elevator boy sprung a new one 
on me. He handed out a catch-penny 
Christmas box and said: 


Merry Christmas. 


51 


‘‘Ain’t that a peach ?” 

“Sure,” said I, wondering what he 
would say next. 

“Then put a stone in it,” said he. 
That cost me a quarter. 

In the dining room each waiter 
wished me a “Merry Christmas,” and 
then you would see his hand slide out 
toward you as though he could not 
help it. Every chambermaid on my 
floor swore that she had waited on 
me at some other hotel, but the boy 
at the coat room took the palm. He 
wiped off my boots with a cloth, 
helped me on with my coat and 
brushed it, then as I was walking 
away, said : 

“Thank you, sah ; thank you, very 
kindly.” 

“What in H are you thanking 

me for; I didn’t give you anything.” 

“No, sah; no, sah!” said he, hes- 
itatingly; “I only thanked yo’ cause 
yo’ let me bresh yo’ off, sah.” 

What a fellow needs is one of those 


52 Jack Henderson. 

change-holders that the street car con- 
ductors use, with a place for each kind 
of a coin. But he would need more 
than that. He would need a national 
bank to keep the thing supplied. 
Yours, 


Jack. 



“HOLDING PEOPLE’S HANDS THAT YOU 
HAVE NEVER BEEN INTRODUCED TO.” 






Swearing Off. 


Jack 

Henderson. 


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Swearing Off. 


Philadelphia, 19 — . 

Dear Billy: — 

The New Year's days have come, 
the saddest of the year — when every 
dub a fellow knows swears off on 
booze and beer. Oh, say ! But doesn't 
it make you tired — this swearing off 
business ? 

I went down the line on New Year's 
morning, from the Malton to the Sing- 
urn House, and every man I asked to 
take a smile cocked his eye, shook his 
head and croaked ''water wagon." I 
went back to the Malton, pulled Dug 
out of bed, and could hardly wait for 
him to dress before I hurried him 
into the bar for a morning's morning. 
D — a man, I say, who doesn't know 
when he has enough. That was the 
toast we drank to, and before we had 


56 


Jack Henderson. 


worn that toast out we certainly had 
enough and we knew it. 

We did some great calling on New 
Year’s day, but a fellow can’t call at 
every booze joint in the Quaker City 
without having a load he can feel. In 
our wanderings for new booze joints 
to conquer, we accidentally got into a 
barber shop. I think it was the bot- 
tles of colored fluid that attracted us. 
We were trying to find an excuse for 
coming in when I saw a sign which 
read: ‘'No one allowed to tip the bar- 
bers.” 

“Good,” said I to myself ; ‘“here is 
one place where we play even.” I 
called Dug’s attention to it, and we 
planted ourselves in chairs. That was 
the slickest shave I ever got, and the 
barber I had — why, he ought to have 
been a trained nurse : he was so solici- 
tous of my health and comfort. 

“This not allowing you chaps to 
take any tips is a great scheme,” said 
I. “How do you like it?” 


Swearing Off. 


57 


‘‘Like it” said the barber ; “it’s 
great. And we make more this way 
than we did before.” 

“More pay, I suppose ?” 

“No, we get the same pay.” 

“Then how can you make more?” 
The barber laughed. 

“Then you ain’t on ?” said he. “It’s 
the slickest ever. You notice that lit- 
tle fancy cup on the shelf ?” 

I told him I had noticed it. 

“Well,” commenced he, “that cup 
does the business. We are not allowed 
to i^eceive any tips, and we tell every- 
body so, and we also tell them about 
the fancy cup, and tell them we can- 
not help it if they want to send a pres- 
ent to our baby, and it is a nervy guy 
who will toss in less than a quarter 
on a plea like that. It looks small, you 
know. Besides, my baby has not been 
feeling well for the past few days.” 

“So you are married and got chil- 
dren?” said I. 

“Well, no; not exactly. I am not 


58 


Jack Henderson. 


married, and of course haven’t any 
children, but I have the sweetest baby 
you ever saw. She is about twenty- 
^seven summers old, and if any one 
should ask you, she is about the warm- 
est baby in the bunch, and she does 
need money. Say, my friend, a chap 
came in here yesterday that put a dol- 
lar into that fancy little dish and he 
said, as he did it : 

‘That’s for the baby.” 

I got out of the chair. As I did so 
he handed me the fancy cup. This 
made me mad, and I said to him : 

“Look here, you tonsorial lobster, 
you and your baby will be obliged to 
worry along without anything from me 
for a while longer,” and I looked him 
fair in the eye that he might under- 
stand I meant business. 

“That’s all right, my friend. You 
do exactly as you please, of course. 
Should be pleased to have you call 
again, and will treat you the best I 
know.” 


59 


Swearing Off. 

He certainly was the limit and was 
trying hard to make me feel like a 
two-cent piece. As I turned my eyes 
from him they encountered a very 
fetching pair of eyes that belonged to 
the manicure lady. She not only had 
a fine pair of eyes, but she knew how 
to use them. I had always thought I 
would like to have one of those chirop- 
odist ladies hold my hand for me, but 
I always hated to have it happen before 
a lot of barbers ; but this one was dif- 
ferent. She could have held my hands 
sitting on the sidewalk on Chestnut 
Street, with all the shoppers loose on 
the street. She made me put one of 
my hands in water and soak it up for 
a while, and then she commenced to 
get in her work. Say, but she had 
the softest hands and the most delicate 
touch. Oh, my! It just took my 
breath away for a minute. After a 
while I began to get a little used to it 
and found myself able to talk. 

‘'You are an awfully sweet girl to 


60 


Jack Henderson. 


be wasting your time sitting around a 
barber shop/' said I ; ''holding people's 
hands that you have never been intro- 
duced to." 

"Oh, I don't know !" said the Queen. 
"This is no ordinary shop, and my cus- 
tomers are all very nice." 

"They can't be nice enough to you," 
said I, "and it's a wonder to me you 
stay here." 

"What do you think I ought to do ?" 

"You ought to get a position where 
you would only have one pair of hands 
to take care of," said 1; and then for 
fear she would not understand me I 
said : 

"Why don't you get married ?" She 
laughed. 

"I don't know any one who would 
have me." 

"Did you ever advertise?" 

"No," said she. "I never thought 
of that. I am doing pretty well here." 

"How much do you get for holding 
hands like this?" 


61 


Swearing Off. 

'Tifty cents is the regular price, but 
sometimes I put in a little more work 
and then my customers give me more.'' 

‘Then," said I; “you just throw in 
a squeeze or two and I will make this 
job two dollars." 

She smiled, which showed her dim- 
ples in good shape, and when she 
caught hold of me again I could 
feel the effect clear up my back. This 
was a new deal for me, but it was 
worth the money. 

“Look here, little queen," said I. 
“Why can't you meet me after you get 
out to-night and have a nice little sup- 
per somewhere?" 

“I would like to awful well, but I 
am afraid I couldn't do it. You see, I 
have a steady, and I couldn’t afford 
to break with him just for one even- 
ing with a stranger." 

“Just my luck," said I, “I never 
saw anything yet that I really wanted 
that some guy didn’t have a prior 
claim to it." 


62 


Jack Henderson. 


Just at this time Dug pulled away 
from the barber who had him under 
control and coming over to where I 
was, said: 

‘'Cut that out, Jack; let’s get out of 
this.” 

The queen cut her work short, but 
she froze on to the two dollars just 
the same, and worse than that she 
handed it to the barber whom I had 
refused to tip, saying as she handed it 
to him: 

“Here’s two bucks for you, Char- 
lie,” and then turning to me she added, 
“that’s my steady.” 

The d — lout of a barber got my 
money after all. I met the queen on 
the street once afterwards. Her eyes 
were not working, some one had 
bruised them for her. 

“What’s the matter, little one,” said 
I, “who has been trying to put your 
lamps out?” 

“That steady of mine,” said she, “he 
accused me of holding out on him.” 


Swearing Off. 63 

''Why don’t you quit him, little 
one ?” 

"Oh, I couldn’t do that. You see 
he is always good to me when he 
doesn’t booze or he gets it into his fool 
head that I am flirting with some 
one.” 

And still we wonder at crime. 

The little queen has passed out of 
my life, and me — have I sworn off on 
queens? Well, not exactly, but if I 
know it I have sworn off on barber’s 
queens. 

Dug and I were out on the German- 
town road the other evening. We 
were out to see some friends and had 
taken a few bowls with Hank and a 
few bowls with Jim, and when we 
got ready to start home we were feel- 
ing rich, good natured and prosper- 
ous, and Germantown road, Billy, 
doesn’t run the . same as the other 
streets in Philadelphia, but looks as 
though it had been taken from some 
other city and dropped into Philadel- 


64 Jack Henderson. 

phia crossways. This plays hob with 
the street corners and a fellow never 
knows where the street cars are going 
to stop. 

We stationed ourselves at a corner, 
where we figured they ought to stop, 
and waited. When the car came it 
went by us like the wind and the mo- 
torman was motioning us to get to the 
next corner. By the time we got to 
the next corner, the car was half way 
down town. Dug was mad, but I re- 
minded him that we had all night to 
get to the hotel in, and that we were 
safe for the next car. It was late and 
the cars did not run often, but one 
came at last. The first thing I no- 
ticed when the car hove in sight was 
the motorman gesticulating with all 
his might for us to get back to the 
corner where we were before. This 
made Dug madder than ever and he 
would not stir and, of course, the car 
went by us again. I laughed, which 
did not improve Dug’s temper. 


Swearing Off. 


65 


‘Think you are smart, don't you ?" 
said he. “Now, I am going to make 
you pay for this. I will bet you a 
sawbuck that the next car stops right 
between these points," indicating the 
two corners where we had missed be- 
fore. 

I took the bet, taking a chance that 
his scheme, whatever it was, would 
fail. We both took our places at the 
point where Dug said the car would 
stop and awaited results. In a few 
minutes another headlight showed us 
that another car was coming. There 
was a cab standing by the curb with a 
tag on it marked “Public Cab," and 
when the car was about a block and a 
half away. Dug grabbed the whip out 
of the socket and caught the horse 
by the bridle, and with a little cussing 
and whipping, brought the cab direct- 
ly across the car track. Unbeknown 
to us the driver was sleeping inside 
the cab, the movement of the cab 
awakened him and about the time the 


66 


Jack Henderson. 


wheels struck the car track, the driver 
fell out of the door of the cab and 
landed on all fours in the street. He 
regained his feet and as soon as he 
saw Dug at the horse’s head a sul- 
phuric string of oaths rolled out of 
his mouth that it is not often the priv- 
ilege of a white man to hear. 

‘"You blankety blank fool,” said the 
driver, ‘‘what are you trying to steal 
my horse for?” 

“Hold on there, young fellow,” said 
Dug, “your horse was running away 
and I caught him at the risk of my 
life. You ought to thank me, not 
curse me.” 

“You are a liar,” said the cabbie, 
“that horse can’t run.” 

This was too much for Dug and he 
promptly knocked the cabbie down. 
By this time the car had stopped with 
the fender touching the wheels of the 
cab. The cabbie had regained his 
feet and was hollowing “Bloody mur- 
der” at the top of his voice. Dug let 


Swearing Off. 


67 


go of the bridle and hit the horse a 
couple of cuts across the rump. This 
set him off on a dog trot down the 
road and the cabbie took after him. 
Dug and I boarded the car, the con- 
ductor gave the signal to go ahead 
and this closed the incident so far as 
we were concerned. I guess the cab- 
bie caught his horse, anyway he 
wouldn’t be much loss. 

It cost me ten dollars, but it put Dug 
in good humor and he tells now that 
if I want something else to swear off 
on I can swear off on betting against 
a sure thing. Yours, 


Jack. 




“A DUFFER WINKED AT HER.” 







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Grafting. 


Indianapolis, Ind., 19 — . 
Dear Billy: — 

Grafting is tipping on a large scale. 
The average man kicks because the 
porters, bell boys and waiters hold 
him up for his small change, but the 
chances are if you should find out all 
about the kicker you would find he 
was a grafter and one of the worst 
kind. 

At the St. Louis exposition I wan- 
dered into a dancing hall where the 
Turkish dancers were going through 
their agonies, and in looking about 
the audience, I saw a bumpkin taking 
in the show. Beside him was his 
Sunday girl, who was trying to be 
shocked by the performance. After 
one or two looks she dropped her eyes 
and would not be comforted. The 
guy, who was grinning all over his 


72 


Jack Henderson. 


face, had to take her out, but she was 
only doing what the grafter often 
does, playing to the grand stand. If 
that girl was my wife I would put a 
detective on her trail right from the 
start. She reminded me of a woman 
I saw in Los Angeles once. 

This woman was married and very 
modest, but she got stuck on a friend 
of mine who was a good deal of a 
rounder, and she used to come down 
town to meet him two or three times 
a week. One day she was coming 
down in the car and a duffer winked 
at her. She was wild with indigna- 
tion, shed tears in the car and de- 
manded that the car be stopped and 
the conductor call a policeman. The 
masher left the car, the modest lady 
kept her appointment with her sweet- 
heart and telephoned to her husband 
from their trysting place that she was 
home darning his socks. 

The telephone is a great thing, 
Billy, and by the way it is the bell- 


Grafting. 


wether as a grafter. Just show this 
to the president of the old company in 
Chicago, he knows it. It doesn’t do 
to judge from appearances, Billy. 
Things are not always as they seem. 
Speaking of grafting, it doesn’t always 
mean money, but it costs money to go 
the pace. I was in a town not a hun- 
dred miles from this one a short time 
ago when I ran across Johnny Mor- 
gan. You remember Johnny, he was 
always one of the good -boys. He was 

so d d good it used to make me 

mad and I licked him often just be- 
cause he was so good that it worried 
me. When Johnny got big enough 
he went to work instead of living on 
the old man, like you and I did, and 
I laid it up against him as much as I 
did his being good. It seems Johnny 
has gotten to be a crack salesman and 
is traveling for a school book house. 
Easiest thing in the world to sell, I 
should think, if a fellow has the best, 
but Johnny says not. 


74 


Jack Henderson. 


Perhaps I am not learning a lot 
about tips, or graft, as it is called when 
it gets into society. You see in order 
to get his books introduced, Johnny is 
obliged to present his case to the su- 
perintendent of schools. If he suc- 
ceeds in getting him coming his way, 
the next thing to do is to tackle the 
school board. Johnny got this far in 
telling his story to me and it struck 
me he was making a strong drink out 
of a weak one. 

‘'Look here, Johnny,’’ said I, “what 
better do you want than that you have 
an intelligent, educated lot of men to 
deal with who are after the best thing 
that can be had for the interests of 
the school?” 

“One minute,” said Johnny, and he 
swelled up with his superior knowl- 
edge of the business, “it is not the 
educated, intelligent side of the board I 
have to deal with, but it is the same 
side that the graft aldermen in the 
Chicago City Council shows when you 
want to get a bill through.” 


Grafting. 


75 


''Do you mean/’ said I, "that these 
school boards have to be seen?” 

"Do they? Well, I should say they 
do, and if they are very intelligent or 
very well educated they have to be 
seen two or three times.” 

Wouldn’t that knock an educated 
pup off the balance pole, Billy ? 

"How are you getting along in this 
town?^ said I. 

"That’s Just it. Jack, I am not get- 
ting along at all. I have them all 
but one on my side, but he has sort 
of taken a dislike to me and I can’t 
budge him an inch. I thought per- 
haps you might help me out as you are 
something of a schemer, besides you 
owe me something for the lickings you 
used to give me when we were kids.” 

"All right, Johnny, I will help you, 
but not on account of the lickings. 
They helped to make a man of you.” 

Just then a lady came up the street 
who attracted my attention. She was 
just my style, tall, slim, dark and 


76 


Jack Henderson. 


handsome, and had eyes that talked 
in spite of herself. She gave me a 
look that went under my vest and 
hurt. Johnny had to shake me before 
I woke up. 

‘'Isn’t she the whole works, John- 
ny?” said I. 

“Not exactly. Jack. Her brother is 
the part of the works I can’t make go.” 

“Johnny,” said I, grabbing him by 
the hand, “now I am in dead earnest. 
We will land that order if it -takes 
the last drink in the bar.” 

“How do you propose to do it. 
Jack?” 

“I don’t know yet,” said I, “but you 
hold the bunch together that you have 
and I will agree to land the other duf- 
fer — what is his name, anyway?” 

“Doctor Davidson,” said Johnny, 
brightening up at my earnestnes, “but 
I don’t think you know what you are 
up against.” 

“Never mind what I am up against, 
I have given you my promise and Jack 


Grafting. ' 77 

Henderson never goes back on his 
word/’ 

I had no idea as to how it could 
be done, but I had decided that the 
first thing for me to do was to get 
acquainted with Miss Davidson. Did 
it ever strike you, Billy, how hard a 
chap will work to get acquainted with 
a woman who strikes his fancy? I 
don’t know of anything he will work 
harder at unless it is to get rid of one 
that he has taken a dislike to. I never 
had much experience in that line, but 
1 was willing to try — no, not willing, 
for when I thought of those eyes I 
felt that I must try. I went to work 
in earnest and I found out that she 
was the doctor’s pet sister, that she 
lived with him and that her front 
name was Laura. Billy, I never knew 
that was such a pretty name before. 
I actually reformed some, I quit 
drinking before breakfast. 

The next thing I did was to watch 
my chance and meet her good and fair. 


78 


Jack Henderson. 


I bowed and smiled, but she gave me 
the busy signal and passed on, then 
I waked up to the fact that men did 
not get acquainted with this kind of a 
girl in that way. Then it came to me 
that I had heard that society people 
always had to be introduced and I real- 
ized I was up against it right. I could 
not help but think of what Dug and 
Konk would say if they knew I had 
gone nutty on account of a pair of 
brown eyes and a smile. 

My next stroke was a bold one, but 
it worked. I dropped in at a church 
social after I had seen Miss Laura 
enter the church. It is a fact, Billy, 
though — if I knew how, I would blush 
to tell it — I really went into a church 
after those brown eyes. After I got 
in there I felt as much out of place as 
I ever did in school ; the only familiar 
face I saw was Laura’s, and I did not 
dare to look at her. The minister 
came along and I overheard a little 
conversation that put me on to the 


Grafting. 79 

right track. A lady commenced it by 
saying : 

''I enjoyed your lecture last night 
very much."' 

am glad you liked it/^ said the 
preacher, remember seeing you — 
your husband was with you.’’ 

''Oh, no, Mr. Parker, my brother 
was with me; don’t you remember I 
introduced him to you after the lec- 
ture ?” 

"Yes, yes, certainly,” said Mr. Par- 
ker, "but there were so many intro- 
ductions,” and I knew by the way he 
said it he was lying and did not re- 
member her nor her brother. This 
gave me my cue; I got out of that 
part of the church and waited until the 
Rev. Mr. Parker came my way again, 
then I pounced upon him. I shook 
hands with him as though he was an 
uncle whom I expected would die soon 
and leave me a fortune. 

"Mr. Parker,” said I, "you remem- 
ber me, Mr. Henderson, I was intro- 


80 


Jack Henderson. 


duced to you last night just after your 
lecture. I was deeply impressed by 
the way you handled your subject.’' I 
had heard someone else say that to 
him, so I knew it must be the proper 
caper. He shook hands with me 
warmly, — he had to, I was doing the 
shaking and others were talking to 
him, but I still hung on. Pulling him 
towards me I said : 

''Mr. Parker, I want you to intro- 
duce me to Miss Davidson.” With 
this I walked him across the room to 
where I felt she was watching us, and 
the deed was done. 

"Miss Davidson, allow me to present 
Mr. Henderson,” and the preacher was 
released and gone. I put out my 
hand, but there was nothing doing — 
not with her hands, but her eyes 
sparkled with fun. 

"Mr. Henderson, allow me to con- 
gratulate you on your wonderful 
nerve,” said she, and don’t you know, 
Billy, that was a body blow for me. I 


Grafting. 


81 


was down and nearly out and I know 
I must have looked foolish. I was not 
counted out, though, for I recovered 
before anyone could have counted more 
than nine. 

‘'Miss Davidson,’’ said I, “I tried to 
be square and get acquainted without 
an introduction, but you wouldn’t have 
it that way, so I did the best I could.” 

“Yes,” said she, “and you trapped a 
preacher into being your tool to carry 
out your plans.” 

Say, Billy, but those brown eyes 
were the only lights in the room, but 
she had the hooks into me good and 
proper and I was squirming and gasp- 
ing for breath. I felt that I could not 
hurt my case any and I spoke out 
just as I felt and just as I caught 
another glimpse of those eyes, I said: 

“Miss Laura, I would have gone to 
the hot place and asked the devil to 
help me if I could have gotten there 
quicker than the way I went to work.” 

“I believe you would, Mr. Render- 


82 


Jack Henderson. 


son, and I am glad to know that you 
are honest even if your language is 
forceful.’' 

''Call me Jack,” said I, "and you can 
walk on my face.” 

Say, Billy, wasn’t I gone to the 
bumpers, though? 

"Sit down here, Mr. Jack,” said she, 
"I want to talk to you.” 

We sat down, some one came around 
with refreshments, cake and ice 
cream. 

"No pot wash for me,” said I, 
"haven’t you any — ” I was going to 
say bug juice, but just then Miss Laura 
stuck a pin into my leg and said to the 
attendant : 

"Mr. Henderson says he does not 
feel like eating ice cream, but will take 
something later.” 

The attendant passed on ; ain’t she a 
trump, though. 

"Look here, Mr. Jack,” said she, 
"did you ever see Mr. Parker before 
tonight, or did any one introduce 
you?” 


Grafting. 83 

''You have sized the case all right, 
Miss Laura, but what of it? I had to 
do it:’ 

"A song by Miss Davidson,’’ said 
some one, and Miss Laura turned to 
me and said : 

"Either get your hat and go or else 
don’t speak to any one while I am 
gone.” 

"Call me Tack,” said 1. 

"Jack.” 

"I’ll be here.” 

She was on to my curves all right. 
She knew if I tried to talk to any of 
that bunch I would spill. A fellow 
with a shock of tan colored hair 
worked the piano for her and she sang 
something that made me hold my 
breath. They gave her the hand and 
then she sang "Home, Sweet Home” 
in a way that would bring tears from 
a deaf mute. When she came back 
to me the tears were running down 
my cheeks, but I didn’t know it until 
she laughed. 


84 


Jack Henderson. 


''You are a good-hearted boy” said 
she, "but don’t you think you had bet- 
ter go now ? I must not spend all my 
time with you, you know, and I want 
to talk to some of the other people.” 

"No,” said I, "this may be my last 
chance of heaven and I am going to 
see you home.” 

She looked startled for a moment 
and then said: 

"All right, you wait here a few min- 
utes.” 

She came back in a few minutes 
with her things on. I went home with 
her and don’t remember to have hit 
the ground but three times tvalking 
the four blocks. I don’t know what 
she said to me, but she called me Jack 
and in some way made it plain to me 
that I was outclassed. I stayed up 
with the bartender until he closed up 
that night, and we got awful chummy 
with a dub from New York, who had 
invented a new drink. He called it a 
"sleeper,” and I guess it was, for I 


Grafting. 


85 


did not wake up until twelve o’clock 
the next day. When I came down the 
first man I met was Johnny Morgan. 
He shook my hand as though he had 
not seen me for a year, and said, with 
tears in his voice: 

‘‘You are a brick. Jack, you’re a 
brick ; how did you do it ? At a meet- 
ing of the board this morning the doc- 
tor not only voted for my books, but 
he talked for them.” 

Johnny insisted on my taking twen- 
ty-five dollars. I hadn’t said any- 
thing about the books, neither had I 
thought of them, but it was a case of 
graft. Anyway, I took the twenty- 
five. Yours, 

Jack. 




“CAPT. JONES, I AM PLEASED TO MAKE 
YOUR ACQUAINTANCE.” 


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The Long Salesman. 


Wichita, Kans., 190 — . 
Dear Billy: — 

Since I wrote you last I have learned 
a new lesson in tipping. I used to 
think that tipping was confined to por- 
ters, waiters and congressmen, but I 
have struck a new lead and I begin to 
think now that the man doesn't live 
who is not either giving or taking tips, 
and the majority of them do both. 

While stopping here at the Carrie 
Hotel I made friends with a traveling 
salesman for a lumber concern. My first 
meeting with him came near being my 
last ; the little slim Jim stepped on my 
foot and I pasted him one in the jaw, 
then for a few seconds there was 
nothing doing and then there was. 
That little duffer jumped to his feet, 
pulled a thirty-two from his pocket and 
fired at me. The bullet went wide of 


90 Jack Henderson. 

the mark and before he could think 
to fire again, I had taken his gun 
away and was holding him and his 
gun apart, one in each hand. That 
one shot cleared the barroom of all but 
we two and the bartender, and he 
was lying full length on the floor be- 
hind the bar. The salesman and my- 
self had both been drinking more than 
was good for us, but the shot had so- 
bered me and I guess it had done as 
much for him. I gave him back his 
gun. 

''You are a damned poor shot,'^ said 
I, "put up the popgun and let’s take a 
drink.” 

We stood up to the bar and I called 
for the bartender, who managed to 
get up after a time and set out the red 
liquor. When the police arrived we 
were touching glasses and in answer 
to an inquiry as to where the man was 
who did the shooting, I answered : 

"Couldn’t tell you, old man, we just 
came in; will you have a drink?” 


The Long Salesman. 


91 


The bartender, after he had waked 
up to the situation, explained that the 
man the police wanted had left by the 
rear door and that was the last we 
saw of the cops. The bartender then 
turned to us and ejaculated: 

‘Well, you two fellows do extract 
the sweet all right. Here you are 
chumming together and you don’t 
even know each other’s names. Just 
you have one on the house while I 
introduce you,” which we did and as 
we clinked the glasses, the bartender 
said: 

“Bless you, my children ! Harry 
Monroe never fired a truer shot than 
when he drew bead on Jack Hender- 
son, for he brought down a friend — 
get together there,” and we drank and 
shook hands. 

That was my introduction to Harry 
Monroe, and a whiter rounder never 
lived. The only trouble with him was 
he was obliged to divide his time be- 
tween living and earning money to 


92 


Jack Henderson. 


live on. Harry got to telling me 
about his selling lumber on the road 
and how he did it, but it looked a lit- 
f tie punk to me and I told him so. After 
I said that there was nothing for me to 
do but to make a trip with him and 
see how it was done. 

He was going to make a trip over a 
route that he had never traveled be- 
fore, and he told me it would give me 
an insight into life that I couldn't get 
in any other way. I went and the first 
town we struck was a little place up 
in nothern Kansas, and the first office 
we got into was plastered all over with 
temperance signs. I took a look at 
Harry to see how he took it, but it 
never feazed him. He introduced 
himself to Mr. Brown, the proprietor, 
and then introduced me as his cousin 
and said I was traveling for my 
health. Then he dropped into a chair 
by the side of Brown and reeled off a 
string of temperance talk that would 
have put the average temperance lec- 


The Long Salesman. 93 

turer in the ditch. I never knew what 
a fearful thing drink was before. 
Harry fairly cried when he told the 
dealer how his father and three sis- 
ters went to the bad on account of 
drink. Then Harry told him a story 
about a man who sold his wife’s wash- 
board for drink, and, said Harry : 

“Just think, she was the only sup- 
port of her husband and six little chil- 
dren;” then they both cried. We 
spent two hours in that office and when 
it was almost train time Harry men- 
tioned his business and took an order 
for eight cars of lumber. We made a 
quick get-away to catch the train, and 
I want to say right here that I was 
feeling sort of punk about that story 
of Harry’s three sisters. After we 
got seated in the car and 1 found I 
could not keep the destruction of Har- 
ry’s family out of my mind, I said to 
him : 

“Harry, is your father dead?” 

“Dead, well I should say not! He 


94 


Jack Henderson. 


is preaching down in Swampscott, 
Massachusetts, and holding his own 
with the best of them” 

‘'And those sisters of yours I 
added. 

“Oh, yes, those sisters, I see now. 
Well, you see Jack, I never had any 
sisters, that’s why I can put them to 
the bad so easy. It’s like this, Jack, 
every one you meet has to have what 
they call down south, ‘Lagniappe;’ in 
the north we call it perquisites or 
graft. In reality it is a tip given by 
one person to another. Now, a sales- 
man is called on to give out more kinds 
of tips and give them out in more dif- 
ferent ways than any other man that 
travels. Sometimes we give cigars, 
sometimes it’s a drink or a dinner, and 
sometimes soft-soap, and other times 
its tears, but to be a success on the 
road you must give something.” 

“Don’t you ever make a mistake in 
giving?” said I. 

“Never did but once.” 


The Long Salesman. 


95 


'Tell me about it.'’ 

'‘Not much to tell, Jack. I gave a 
man the measles once and lost his 
trade." 

He was so nervous about that I felt 
for a moment that he had walked into 
some fellow's office and handed out a 
package marked "measles," expecting 
to make a hit by doing it. 

The next dealer we struck was a 
little, under-sized, florid man, who had 
a twinkle in his eye that put you in 
good humor at once. This time Harry 
introduced me as a druggist out of a 
job, and Mr. Wise, the dealer, asked 
me if r was a good judge of spiritus 
frumenti. 

"Try him," said Harry, and Mr. 
Wise started for his sash house, mo- 
tioning for us to follow. We went 
to the farther end of the sash house 
and there down inside a pile of sash 
Mr. Wise fished out a bottle of whis- 
key. I tasted of it. 

"It's rotten," said I, and it was. 


96 


Jack Henderson. 


Harry laughed and pulling a pint 
flask from his pocket, said : 

‘T told Jack to say that so I could 
offer you a pint of the best that’s 
made.” 

It was good, and although Mr. Wise 
did not know the difference, he pre- 
tended he did and we didn’t do a thing 
to that pint bottle between us in about 
ten minutes. The talk of the morning 
had made me so dry I could hardly 
stand it. Harry got an order for three 
cars at that place and then nothing of 
real worth turned up for a couple of 
days. 

It was always ‘‘nuts” to me to see 
Harry deal out the tips, as he called 
them, and when we struck a new lead 
and were working up a new game, he 
would say: 

“I wonder what this geezer will 
take, cigars, whiskey, or soft-soap?” 

One morning about eight o’clock we 
came in sight of a lumber yard with 
a small office; standing above on the 


97 


The Long Salesman. 

top of the office was a signboard on 
which was painted Capt. J. J. Jones. 
I called Harry’s attention to it and 
said : 

''How is that for conceit?” 

Harry commenced counting on his 
fingers : 

"One, two, three, four, five. That’s 
the checker, Capt. Jones, J. J., you are 
my meat. He needs the army tip and 
I’m the boy who can tip him.” 

We walked into the office, there 
were three men there. Harry never 
hesitated a moment but walked up to 
one of them, held out his hand, and 
said : 

"Captain Jones, I am pleased to 
make your acquaintance. There is not 
a man who ever fought in the Civil 
War that I would not go miles to see. 
I have always felt sorry that I did not 
live in those stirring times. What 
regiment were you in. Colonel?” 

'^The — the Pennsylvania,” said 

Mr. Jones, "and there was no finer 
regiment in the service.” 


98 Jack Henderson. 

The other two men had gone out of 
the office. 

‘‘Colonel/^ said Harry, “it must 
have been grand to have led such a 
regiment as that on the field of battle ; 
it must have been awe-inspiring to 
have sat there on the different horses 
that were shot from under you, giving 
your orders to the staff officers for this 
battalion to charge or that battalion 
to take a certain point of vantage. I 
can see you now, as you sat upon your 
milk-white steed, raise up in your stir- 
rups and a determined look in your 
fearless face, wave your sword and 
say, 'Follow me, men, victory is ours !’ 
Oh, but it must have been grand. I 
tell you. General, I cannot help but 
envy you just a little and I will confess 
why. During the Spanish War I en- 
listed seven times, and each time I was 
left behind because my height was too 
great for my width. It is awful. Gen- 
eral, to be so afflicted. Now had I 
your commanding figure (Mr. Jones 


99 


The Long Salesman. 

was round-shouldered and bow- 
legged), I might have died for my 
country, and had I a noble brow like 
yours (Mr. Jones' forehead sloped back 
like that of an ape), I might at least 
have married the daughter of a Moro 
chief and been court-martialed after I 
got home for leaving her with my 
mother-in-law." 

Harry was really out of breath and 
Capt. Jones broke in and said: 

''You don't belong in this town, do 
you? Are you a traveling man?" 

"Yes," said Harry, with a sigh, "I 
am a lumber salesman, but General, 
tell me of some of the rivers you swam 
and of some of the hair-breadth es- 
capes you have been through. I could 
stay here all day and feast on your 
words. You knew Grant and Sher- 
man and Lee well, didn't you ?" 

"Oh, yes," said Capt. Jones, "I 
have seen them all, but say, what are 
two-by-fours worth, delivered here ?" 

Harry woke up with a start. 

L.of C. 


100 


Jack Henderson. 


‘‘By Jove, 1 must have forgotten my- 
self/’ He took a price list out of hi^ 
pocket and throwing it on the desk in 
front of the captain, said : 

“There are my prices. General, if 
you want anything pick it out, but let 
me sit down here near you and gaze 
on a man who at one time was a friend 
and confidant of General Grant/’ 

Talk about spreading it on thick, 
slush, and all that — well, when we left 
the mighty man of war, Harry had or- 
ders for seven cars of lumber. 

“Gee ! that’s a good order,” said 
Harry, “I wonder if the bow-legged 
old chimpanzee is good for that much 
all at once.” 

One night we got into a dealer’s of- 
fice about six o’clock; the dealer was 
just shutting up to go home. Harry 
always introduced me differently to 
every one we met and it happened that 
at this particular office he introduced 
me as a theological student. I was 
not at all surprised, as he had intro- 
duced me as almost everything. 


The Long Salesman. 101 

The dealer invited us to go with 
him for supper. I wanted , to cut it 
out, but Harry leaned towards the 
house, as I suppose he thought he saw 
an order ahead. When we sat down 
to supper, there were besides Harry 
and myself, the dealer, his wife and 
six boys ranging from twelve to twen- 
ty years of age. They had a whole 
roast pig for supper, but it was the 
smallest pig I ever saw, either dead 
or alive. T was hungry and as I 
looked around that table and saw the 
anxious eyes that were sizing up that 
pig, I could not help but think that if 
I could get one crack at it myself, that 
the rest of them would go to bed hun- 
gry. 

We were all seated, but there was 
nothing doing. I looked to see what 
the trouble was ; the old man was nod- 
ding at me. I glanced at Harry, he 
was grinning. I looked myself over 
to see what was the matter with me 
and then the old man spoke: 


102 Jack Henderson. 

'Tlease ask a blessing, Mr. Hender- 
son.’’ Then it occurred to me that 
Harry had introduced me as a theolog- 
ical student and the perspiration started 
out all ov'er me. I knew every eye 
was on me and I looked at the pig 
for inspiration. The thought came to 
me that I must carry out the part if it 
took a wing. My eye rested on the 
pig as it stood on the platter on all 
fours, and its small size struck me 
more forcibly. I thought and before 
I could suppress the words, I had said 
my thoughts aloud: 

-It’s too d d small.” 

The boys had been worked up to a 
high pitch by the size of the pig and 
the failure to get started right, and 
they gave a holler that shook the 
dishes on the table, the old man looked 
ugly, the old woman fainted and dur- 
ing the excitement Harry and I made 
a break for the door. We left that 
night; we had queered ourselves with 
the only dealer there. Harry was in- 


The Long Salesman. 


103 


dined to laugh the affair off, but it 
seemed to me as though I had made an 
awful break somehow. Say, but it 
was an awful little pig, though. 

So long, Billy, 


Jack. 


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At The Mission School. 




Jack 

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At the Mission School. 


Topeka, Kansas, 190 — . 
Dear Billy: — 

Say, Billy, do you cotton to kids? 
I don't suppose you know whether 
you do or not, but if anyone should 
ask you about me, tell them I don't. 
And I've been thinking about it quite 
a bit lately. 

Do you remember Ed Cook? He 
came out to Kansas three years ago 
and got married. He and his wife 
are here now and her sister lives with 
them. 

I met Ed Sunday afternoon. He 
was wearing a Y. M. C. A. button, 
and looked the part so well that I 
didn't intend to speak to him, but he 
signaled me and piloted me up to the 
shelf in the apartment building where 
he sleeps. 

We hadn't been talking very long 


108 


Jack Henderson. 


when the door opened and the sister 
came in. She was dressed to go out, 
and looked as if she was expecting 
someone. 

''Lou,’' said Ed, "let me introduce 
Mr. Henderson. My sister. Miss 
Hargreaves, Mr. Henderson.” 

The girl bowed but looked kind of 
puzzled. 

"I thought you said his name was 
Clark,” she said. 

"Oh, Clark’s sick — couldn’t come 
today,” answered Ed. 

"Oh, dear,” she said. "Why didn’t 
you tell me sooner? I simply have to 
have a young man today, and it’s too 
late now to find anyone. I don’t know 
what to do.” 

She was looking at me kind of 
pleadingly and I said : 

"Is it anything I can do?” 

Ed gave her a foxy smile and said, 

"Why sure, Lou. That’s just the 
combination. Jack’s just the boy you 
want.” 


The Mission School. 109 

''He looks as if he would be/’ she 
said, looking at me thoughtfully. 
"I’m sure it’s awfully kind of you, 
Mr. Henderson. I suppose you’ve 
had experience in this work. Most 
young men have.” 

I wasn’t very sure what she meant, 
but I couldn’t think of any experi- 
ence just then that I hadn’t had, so I 
trailed along after her as she started 
for the door. 

"Sorry you have to go. Jack,” Ed 
said; "but we’ll see you again.” 

It wasn’t such a bad trip. The 
young lady was quite vivacious. She 
told me that she was studying music 
and put in her Sunday afternoons 
playing in a dago mission Sunday 
School. Then I began to tumble. I 
sure hadn’t had any experience of that 
kind. 

"There’s the dearest class of little 
boys,” she told me. "Italians and 
Greeks, mostly, and so interesting. If 
my time wasn’t so taken up with the 


110 


Jack Henderson. 


music rd like to take them myself, 
but I can’t do both, of course. It was 
so sweet of you to volunteer, Mr. 
Henderson.” 

I looked at her, but her face was 
full of gratitude and friendliness, and 
I couldn’t believe she was really try- 
ing to work me. But I didn’t remem- 
ber volunteering to teach a class of 
dirty little Ginnies. 

‘'Ed comes down here frequently 
and helps,” she said. “He finds the 
work so interesting. And it is such 
good experience, don’t you think so, 
Mr. Henderson? Oh, here we are.” 

I felt weak. I looked up and down 
the street, but couldn’t get out any 
good reason for deserting the lady 
just at that point. Before I had de- 
cided on anything I found myself in a 
big room full of chairs in rows with 
kids placed around in bunches wait- 
ing for the show to begin. 

“We’re a little late,” Miss Har- 
greaves said, hastily ; “but Miss 


The Mission School. Ill 

Smith will take care of you. Miss 
Smith, this is Mr. Henderson. He 
wants to teach the class we were 
speaking of,’' and she was chasing 
down the aisle to the organ before I 
could get my breath. 

The other young lady was very 
cordial. She acted as though I was 
all she had been waiting for. She 
asked me if I had been in mission 
work long, and what I thought of the 
question of the evangelization of the 
slums of the cities, and if I had a 
quarterly. I answered ‘"No” to the 
last question — she didn’t give me 
time to answer the others — and she 
chased off and brought me a paper 
book which, she said, had the lesson 
in it. 

I looked around while she was off 
for the book. There was just one 
door to the room and a fat woman 
was standing there, arguing with a 
little boy who wanted to get out. 
There didn’t seem to be much doing 


112 


Jack Henderson. 


in that quarter, so I braced up and 
prepared to take my medicine like a 
man. 

‘'Here are your boys,’’ she said, 
piloting me to a bunch of greasy look- 
ing little devils. “Boys, this is Mr. 
Henderson. You must be real good 
to him,” and she gave us all a sweet 
smile and faded away. 

A pale young man with a Sunny 
Jim face was standing by the bunch. 
He told me he was the assistant su- 
perintendent and had to keep order. 
He said he always gave a little extra 
attention to these boys. 

“I guess you’d better take them in- 
to the class room early,” he said. 
“They seem to be a bit uneasy to- 
day.” 

He opened a little door in the wall 
and the kids fell over themselves into 
the next room. Then the door was 
shut, but I couldn’t have heard what 
was doing in the next room, anyway, 
for the way those little dagos were 


The Mission School. IIS 

howling would have made a room full 
of maniacs seem like a summer breeze. 
Just to remind them that I was there 
I picked up two of them and cracked 
their heads together. That seemed to 
interest them a little, and the other 
boys stopped to take rubbers at the 
fun. I couldn’t see as I was hurting 
them any, so I went on batting them. 
The rest of the crowd evidently got a 
hunch as to what might be coming to 
them, for they all filed over to a row 
of chairs and sat down. It was so 
still all of a sudden that I could hear 
their heads crack as I brought them 
together. 

''Now, see here,” said I, letting go 
of the two interesting little dears I 
was operating on, "Tm willing to do 
the fair thing if you give me the 
chance. If you can sit still without 
talking or moving I’ll give you each 
a quarter when they let us out of 
here.” 

"Dat’s Isidore Simon. He’ll get 


114 Jack Henderson. 

de quarter/’ one of the kids said. But 
the rest of them were too anxious for 
the money to talk. 

“Remember/’ I said, fearing I 
hadn’t made it strong enough, “I’ll 
pound daylight out of the first one of 
you little devils that opens his 
mouth.” 

It was enough. I sat there for 
thirty-five minutes by my watch with 
that row of brats sitting there as still 
as if they were dead. The bell rang 
and I let them file out into the other 
room, and they did it in great style. 
Then I had to chase out and get the 
change to pay them off. As soon as 
the meeting let out the two young 
ladies and the assistant superintendent 
piked up to me and began to all talk 
at once. 

“Oh, Mr. Henderson,” the girls 
said together, “we must congratulate 
you on your success. You are per- 
fectly wonderful with children! No 
one ever handled those boys so well 


The Mission School. 


115 


before! Couldn’t you take tlie class 
permanently ?” 

Say, Billy, I thought I’d made a hit. 
I thought that everything was* coming 
my way, from the way they crowded 
each other to flash a happy look at me. 
It must have made me kind of dizzy 
to get it all in a bunch like that, for 
before I could think what to say in 
such a nice crowd as that, Ed’s sister- 
in-law had got her jacket on and was 
walking off with Sunny Jim. 

She looked back at me with a real 
sweet smile. ‘‘Good-bye, Mr. Hen- 
derson,” she said. “I’m awfully sor- 
ry, but Mr. Williams and I have to go 
to a committee meeting right away. 
I wish you would come again. I think 
it is lovely to meet a young man who 
is so fond of children.” 

Wouldn’t kids be poison to you 
after that? Just think, the best look- 
ing of the two going off with a white 
livered guy like that! If I had been 
full she would have taken more no- 


116 Jack Henderson. 

tice of me. I was so sore that I didn't 
know that the other girl was talking 
to me until I heard : 

''So if you'll kindly excuse me I'll 
go and attend to it now. Mr. Will- 
iams has so much to do, and I like 
to help him all that I can. Don't you 
think he is a splendid young man, Mr. 
Henderson? And such a worker!" 

"I think you're all a bunch of 
workers," I said. But she just 
smiled and said, "Oh, thank you! 
Good-bye 1" 

No more Sunday School for me, 
Billy. It's too costly for the returns. 
Yours, 

Jack. 


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